


All Things Eventual

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Saiyuki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-22
Updated: 2003-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1631393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for BabyG</p>
    </blockquote>





	All Things Eventual

**Author's Note:**

> Written for BabyG

 

 

All Things Eventual 

Rating: PG-13  
Comments: A heartfelt attempt by the author at something different (for the author). This, from someone who has never really had the guts to share (or, for that matter, finish) anything she writes. Let the confusion begin. And no, despite initial appearances, this isn't a deathfic. ^_^;; Oh, and . . . Merry Christmas. ^^ 

It was silent in the temple gardens.  
It might have followed that the silence was peaceful. After all, a sense of peace, of refuge, was the intended effect. A stillness fabricated within this systematic imitation of nature. This, however, was a very different sort of quiet; far from natural. A stillness in which a sound would be lost; as if the very air were a structure impenetrable, a mere illusion of a place familiar. It may have been a place where he was once happy - or as close to it as he had ever been. But here, now, he was very much alone.  
He was standing on a meticulously groomed cushion of moss, below trees immobile in the stagnant air. He studied a leaf before him, arranged neatly where it might have fallen if nature had as strong a sense of the aesthetic as the monks who put it there thought they did. And then, on the edge of his sight, another leaf drifted down, silent, swirling lazily on an intangible breeze. There was a painful sense of displacement as he watched the leaf settle at his feet. It was then that he realized that he was covered with blood. He raised his hand before him and studied it, bemused, wondering if the blood that stained his fingers belonged to him. It was suddenly a struggle to stand. Had he been injured? Perhaps. It would have accounted for quite a few things. So. This was death. He hadn't the strength to feel disappointed. 

The silence between them was tense, and heavy with words unspoken. Gojyo sat on the thin mattress, habitual cigarette hanging from his lips. It was Hakkai who spoke first, from where he stood by the dirty window of the cheap hotel room. "Are we going to lose them both?"  
It was a question Gojyo didn't know how to answer. "I suppose we'll just have to wait an see, ne?" The absence of a smile on Hakkai's face was almost comforting. 

Hakkai should have known from the start that it was futile to try to deceive Son Goku. He may have been accused more than once of being dim-witted, but the heretic saw more with those golden eyes than most gave him credit for. When Sanzo stopped breathing, Goku knew exactly what was going on. And with one last wild look at what he had lost along with Sanzo's life, he lost control, in accordance with all prediction. Shortly after Goku's limiter had shattered, the clearing in which they had been attacked looked like it had been painted with blood. The very leaves dripped with gore; and that was before Seiten Taisen, newly emerged, had turned to the only two youkai still in less than ten pieces - his own companions. Upon reflection, neither Gojyo nor Hakkai really understood how they had survived the next few minutes. Gojyo attributed it to Hakkai's sheer strength, after he had removed his limiters. Even Kanzeon Bosatsu, when she arrived, looked mildly shocked. Goku had the advantage of being more than willing, even delighted, to kill everything in sight; Hakkai, even in his youkai form, was not driven by bloodlust, but rather a drive to protect at all of protection's deadly costs. It was a weakness. And he recognized it for what it was. Which was why it was lucky that the Goddess of Mercy arrived when she did; they had been losing - badly. 

It was raining in the temple gardens.   
The rain was silent, as it struck the leaves of the overhead trees. As the droplets filtered down to the ground, he could feel the cool sting of water on his bloodied skin. Drop by drop, the rain was washing the blood away. 

The first sound that filtered through was the steady rhythm of water against a windowpane; he knew the sound well, and it only served to tie him further to the delirious dream of a netherworldly Chou'an. But the pain eating at the edges of his consciousness ruthlessly drew him back. "He's waking up." A soft, murmured voice . . . familiar. But it didn't belong to Chou'an. "About damn time." Neither did _that_ voice. An impatient sound was made, and the first voice spoke, a little louder this time. "Sanzo." "Hey, stupid priest."  
He instinctively reached for his fan, gasping sharply at the pain the motion caused, and more than a little angry when he realized it wasn't anywhere within reach. He opened his eyes and attempted a deadly glare in the general direction of the blur which seemed to be two figures, standing nearby. "Sanzo?"  
Damn, his head hurt. "What the hell is going on?" His voice was scratchy, and sounded hopelessly disused. "We were attacked by a group of youkai . . . one that we definitely weren't expecting. You were very badly injured." Sanzo fixed a suspicious glare on Hakkai. " _How_ badly injured?" Gojyo answered for him. "Let's just say that we were all convinced you were going to _stay_ dead this time, priest." Hn. That bad? He'd bet Goku had thrown a fit. Suddenly his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Where is Goku?" He didn't miss the look Gojyo and Hakkai exchanged. A cold feeling akin to anger welled in him during the silence that followed. "Well? Answer me!" he demanded.  
"Goku . . . he's here," Hakkai said weakly. Sanzo knew that whenever he was even the slightest bit injured, Goku wouldn't leave him alone for a second. He'd be damned if Goku was here, but not in the room. "What is this about? Why isn't he _here?_ " "Sanzo," Hakkai began, shooting a warning look at Gojyo. _Support me and don't say anything insensitive,_ it said. "Goku thought you were dead. His limiter shattered . . . and he killed our attackers as Seiten Taisen, before turning on us." "Well, obviously he didn't succeed in killing you. So what's going on?" Hakkai couldn't look at him. _You're not making this easy._ "Sanzo . . . he really thought you were dead." Sanzo narrowed his eyes. "Well, I'm _not_ dead. So where. Is. He." Gojyo cut in, seeing Hakkai's reluctance. "He never came back to himself. Kanzeon Bosatsu tried to create a limiter for him . . . and failed." " _What?_ " He couldn't school his features past incredulity. It didn't help that the world was lurching, spinning, darkening before his eyes, threatening to disappear altogether. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. "Non . . . sense," he panted. He struggled to sit up, determined to overlook the pain. "I'll do it . . . myself . . ." "Sanzo!"  
He hadn't even managed to free himself of the covers before the silent dark claimed him once more. 

"He'll live," Kanzeon Bosatsu said, dismissing Sanzo's condition with a wave of a well-manicured hand. "We have a more pressing problem on our hands." "And Sanzo may be the only solution to that problem!" Hakkai's polite demeanor was quickly dissolving into anger. The Goddess of Mercy looked sharply into his flashing green eyes. "Do you really think he can succeed where I have failed?" "He can at least try," Hakkai said coldly. "You've both done it before," Gojyo stepped between them, trying to cool off a little of the animosity. "Why is now the exception?" Kanzeon's eyes focused momentarily on something far away, and was silent for a long time. "This . . . has happened once before," she said finally. "A youkai . . . though Son Goku technically isn't one . . . can only wear a limiter if he in some manner consents to it. There is no way to force Son Goku back to his former self. At best, we can restrain him until he decides he's ready. Until then . . . there is no more we can do." 

"Just let me try," he growled, violet eyes flashing, making it clear that he was not, in any sense of the word, asking. "Stupid fucking brat," he muttered, dragging his feet as he slowly made his way to the room Hakkai had reluctantly indicated. Barely managing to restrain the bloodthirsty youkai, Kanzeon Bosatsu had appeared before the innkeeper and kindly informed his that he would be housing as a guest the most powerful and deadly youkai in all of existence. Being a religious man, the innkeeper deferred to the Goddess of Mercy. Gojyo had thought that someone ought to have told him that not only was the `goddess' hermaphroditic, `she' was also an atrocious kisser. Hakkai and Gojyo followed closely behind Sanzo as he made his way to the heavily locked door; not that locks were for much of anything but show. They gave each other a look when Sanzo shot the locks open, yanked open the door, stumbled inside, and abruptly slammed it behind him. 

Seiten Taisen made a pitiful sight, the chains weighing him down so heavy as to almost be ridiculous. But one look at the creature's slitted, feral golden eyes convinced Sanzo that it was anything but unnecessary. The room was dark, cold, and there was challenge and murder in the creature's eyes . . . an insane lack of fear, despite his helpless position. He decided to waste no time. 

Pressed to the other side of the door, Hakkai and Gojyo listened as Sanzo began the spell. There was a low and threatening sound that started as a growl, and increased in intensity with Sanzo's chanting. The noise became almost deafening, and when it was finally over, they heard a soft thud, and nothing more. They wrenched the door open to find Sanzo sprawled facedown on the floor, unconscious, and the feral golden eyes staring at him from the dark. There was no hope of knowing what was going on behind them. 

It had been raining for several days straight, and Sanzo had spent most of his time staring out the window, chain smoking, only stirring occasionally to eat and demand more cigarettes. He was healing, slowly but surely. Besides Hakkai's attempts to check on him occasionally, his companions respected his wish to be alone. As things stood, their journey home had been indefinitely suspended. It had seemed, when they begun their foreordained mission, that their journey to the West would last until the end of their days. Not to mention that there was no guarantee that any of them would survive. At the beginning, none of them even ventured a thought about what would happen when it was over. And when it was, they had remained for a time, almost unwilling to accept their success. They finally came to the conclusion that staying wasn't really an option. Of course, they never thought of their return journey as a journey to the East, or even _home;_ only as a sort of anticlimactic journey _back._ And unconsciously, they had let their guard down. Now that the minus wave had been reversed, the youkai they encountered had seemed confused, guilty, or perfectly normal; they hadn't expected many to remain murderous. And that had been their mistake. Quite unexpectedly, they had found themselves surrounded by a group of youkai who were less than friendly; on the contrary, they seemed quite intent on killing them all. It was an understatement that Sanzo-ikkou had been unprepared. 

//Sanzo//  
It was that annoying voice . . . _again._ By the Three Aspects, did it ever _stop?_ It called to him day and night, bearing with it an intense longing and an insatiable hunger that tugged at him . . . annoyingly. He hadn't a choice but to follow it. Find that voice, somehow . . . do whatever he had to do to silence it. //Sanzo//  
Maybe he was going crazy. Maybe the voice wasn't really there; perhaps it was an illusion, born of his grief. Maybe . . . //I'm so hungry//  
He recalled a conversation once, and _he_ had spoken of a call; one a solitary Koryuu hadn't even been aware of making . . . had he been this annoying? He kind of doubted it. But he remembered making a promise, that if he ever heard that call . . . //Sanzo//  
He woke with a start in the dark inn, with the rain outside. He processed, with a strange sinking feeling, that the call in the dream was a distant memory, and nothing more. He reached up, and realized that his face was wet. 

"This is your responsibility. Do you understand? Do you even care?" Sanzo pointedly ignored the Goddess of Mercy. "Tell me, what are you going to do?"  
"What am _I_ going to do? Absolutely nothing." A delicate eyebrow raised. "Oh?" 

"For one, you're making the mistake of thinking I _care._ As far as I'm concerned, the stupid little brat can pout as long as he wants." Konzeon Bosatsu eyed the priest, trying to discern if he really meant his cutting remarks; trying to gauge whether or not she should be angry. She decided to be angry regardless. "I don't think you _quite_ understand, Genjo Sanzo. This is not just `pouting.' This . . . is Goku's version of suicide." It looked for a second as if Sanzo would continue to argue, but he didn't respond. "He's not aware of what's happening. Perhaps somewhere, deep inside, he hoped that someone would be forced to kill him in this state. But it all boils down to that Goku lost his grip on his own consciousness. The Goku as you knew him . . . he's gone." Silence reigned until Sanzo's lighter flared to life as he lit another cigarette. "I don't believe you." 

Sanzo shut the door quietly and firmly behind him and ventured a few steps into the dark room, noting with some discomfort that calculating golden eyes were watching his every move. He watched right back for a moment, before lighting a cigarette, never taking his eyes off the creature opposite him. "I suppose you know by now that I'm not here to hurt you." He felt stupid, talking to a youkai that had never really exhibited the intelligence to indicate that he could speak, much less understand anything said to him. He shuddered under the intense gaze. Seiten Taisen burned too brightly. That was what bothered Sanzo. One could not spend too long in his presence. He burned like a wildfire; hot, quick, all-consuming. He existed only for that single purpose, to burn; to destroy. "I may restrain you, yes, but . . . I'm not likely to hurt you. Unless you decide to keep pissing me off." Seiten Taisen just continued to stare, tensed like an animal ready to pounce. Sanzo let out a frustrated "che" and took another drag off his cigarette. He almost dropped it when he heard the creature speak. "You even shine in the dark." Seiten Taisen's voice sounded as if it hadn't been used in a century . . . or perhaps longer. It was deep, and so gravelly as to almost be unintelligible. "Interesting." Genjo Sanzo was officially freaked out. When he finally regained his composure, anger was the predominant emotion. "Give Goku back, you little shit." His hand strayed to his exorcism gun. "And what makes you think he's still here?" He sounded as if he were enjoying himself immensely. Sanzo drew his gun. The creature looked completely unconcerned. "Perhaps you misunderstood me."  
He aimed carefully, directly between his target's feral eyes, shining with . . . was that excitement? He couldn't count the number of times he'd pointed his gun at Goku. It had never seemed worth it to shoot him - thus far. "I said give him back."  
He released the safety. He'd made it clear to Goku before . . . and he wouldn't hesitate for a second. Seiten Taisen obviously wasn't buying it, but he didn't know Genjo Sanzo. He would shoot if he damn well felt like it. "Now."  
His finger tightened on the trigger.  
 _You're a liar, Genjo Sanzo. A goddamn liar._ The gun shook in his clenched hands. 

Gojyo and Hakkai startled awake as a shot rang out in the night. 

Seiten Taisen laughed gleefully, an inhuman sound. The air was misplaced where the bullet had missed his head by a hair's breadth, and penetrated the wall behind him. 

"Sanzo."  
He started a little. It was Gojyo. He could sense Hakkai behind him, but apparently the red-head had been elected to do the speaking this time. "We can't stay here . . . like this."  
He knew that. Why did everyone have to remind him? "Sooner or later he's going to escape . . . you know that room won't hold him forever. And we can't stay here forever." _Forever_  
Exasperation at the monk's silence clear in his voice, Gojyo tried again. "Sanzo . . ." "I know what you're proposing," the monk cut in. "I just . . ." There was a heavy silence.  
"Want to make sure he's not coming back," Hakkai finished quietly. Sanzo didn't say anything for a very long time, and finally, he stubbed out his cigarette and turned around. His voice was as weary as his eyes. "It seems I no longer have a choice." 

Kanzeon Bosatsu agreed to render Seiten Taisen into a state of unconsciousness until they returned to the mountain. For some reason, Sanzo insisted carrying the creature there himself. Even more so than the journey to the West, it seemed that this was the end of a journey, and just as he had led Goku from his prison, he was leading him back to it. He'd had doubts at first whether the life he was giving Goku was really all that different from that prison he had taken him from. He wasn't like his master; he wasn't exactly a kind person. But despite appearances, Son Goku had never really believed that his savior meant anything by his subtle, and sometimes not-so-subtle, abuse. After all, the little displays of protection, of anger when Goku was criticized or threatened, far outweighed any half-hearted attempt Sanzo made at pushing him away. Because Goku never doubted Sanzo. Because Goku, simple-minded monkey though he was, could see right through him. A few whacks with the fan was worth it for the opportunity to bask in the sunlight. Genjo Sanzo felt this was the ultimate betrayal. He spent a lot of time trying to convince himself that he didn't care, but it had quickly proved to be a futile effort. It was then that he decided that noone needed to really know that he cared that much for Goku . . . it boiled down to the fact that he would rather die than live without him. There was, however, a great difference between what he would rather do, and what he _had_ to do. "Hakkai," he asked, when they stood at the base of the mountain, "do you think I'm a weak person?" Hakkai smiled gently. "I wouldn't say you're weak . . . no. The wounds you've suffered . . ." "I don't know if I can survive it again," Sanzo interrupted. "Losing another person." Hakkai looked away. "All we can do is live." "And what if it's all we can do to live?" "Then we keep on living."  
They were silent for a while, and Sanzo lit a fresh cigarette. "I want to do this alone."  
That smile was unwaverable. "I understand." 

It took several days to reach his destination, and it didn't help that he was carrying the dead weight of a youkai every step of the way. He watched the sun set from the top of the mountain, and left the next morning, after the Goddess of Mercy had returned Seiten Taisen to his eternal prison, determined never to look back. He was halfway down the mountain when he heard it, strangely soft at first, and then so loud and despairing he wouldn't have been surprised if the very mountain shook with the force of it. God, he was irritating. 

"Well," Gojyo commented, "apparently Goku figured out that Sanzo wasn't as dead as he thought he was." 

"Goku."  
Warm breath grazed his ear, smelling faintly of cigarettes. "Mmnm." He realized belatedly that it was he who had made that little noise. Blinking, he forced his eyes open a little, and found himself dangerously close to a pair of large-pupiled, violet eyes. "Sanzo," he murmured, disoriented. He blinked again. "Where are we?" Sanzo leaned away a little, inspiring a strange little stab of disappointment in Goku. "An inn outside of Kourin. We've been here for a couple of days. I was waiting for you to wake up again." "Why?"  
Sanzo shrugged. "I got tired of carrying you." Goku considered this for a moment. "Ne, Sanzo," he said, watching the blonde man light another cigarette. "Hm?"  
"I'm hungry."  
Where he had expected a whack on the head, or at the most a noncommital grunt, he was shocked when Sanzo just looked at him, appearing only slightly annoyed. "Figures," he said gruffly. "Ne, Sanzo?" he ventured again.  
"Hm?"  
"Where are we going?"  
He was aware again of just how close he was to the violet of Sanzo's eyes, and had nearly forgotten about the question when he was presented with a softly spoken answer. "Home."   
 

* * *

  


_blink_  
Um . . . I tried?  
I much appreciate you taking the time to read this. Arigato gozaimasu, and again, Merry Christmas. ^ ^ 

 


End file.
